Hydrogen: What the hell? Is there some secret militant school of method acting where you get completely wasted on grain alcohol before you do any scene in a bar?

Trillaphon: Those guys trying to kill them must've been shitfaced too. Should've known better than to try to use shotguns to rob Shotgun Jones. He is the Dumbledore of fucking shotguns.

Hydrogen: The inquiry board is going to have a field day with this one.

Trillaphon: Excerpt from the official internal affairs transcript: "Officer Burtaugh and I unholstered our firearms and fired a hundred zillion times, allegedly blowing the alleged suspects' fucking dicks off. It was, for the record, cool as hell."

Hydrogen: And the cliche express just keeps on rolling on into the lieutenant's office for the mandatory "hit the showers" verbal abuse cop movie brass tirade.

Trillaphon: DAMNIT JONES, THE MAYOR'S STUCK SO FAR INSIDE THE ENDLESS TUNNELS OF MY ASS HE'S GONNA NEED TO GO DEEPER INTO MY ASS TO GET OUT INSTEAD OF GOING BACK THE OTHER WAY, WHICH WOULD BE FARTHER.

Hydrogen: THE DA SENT AN EXPEDITION OF GEOLOGISTS ALL THE WAY UP INSIDE MY ASS WITH A HYDRAULIC DRILL AND A BUNCH OF ASS PROFESSORS.

Trillaphon: JESUS CHRIST, JONES, THE DEPUTY COMMISSIONER IS CAMPING OUT INSIDE MY ASS WITH HIS RV AND 3 KIDS GRILLING BRATS WHILE HIS DOBERMAN BITES A HOLE IN MY COLON.

Trillaphon: I'm still in awe that there's an even shittier part of the city where he can threaten to send the half-shaved ginger orangutan who lives in a flophouse with a dead hooker and wears disintegrating hobo clothes to work every day.

Hydrogen: Hey, those hobo clothes are a brilliant disguise, especially since he wears them to bed every night...and by bed I of course mean "pile of dirt he sleeps in".